


Sorting Sam

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Family Fluff, Gen, Hogwarts, Hufflepuff Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:24:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean watches his brother get sorted, hoping desperately for what his father considers the 'right' result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorting Sam

**Author's Note:**

> I am a firm believer that Dean is a Hufflepuff, and no one can change my mind.

Dean was nervous. That was an understatement, really, but he wasn't quite sure how to describe it without being too graphic. In reality, he just wanted to puke all over his own shoes. It was worse than it had been at his own sorting ceremony, which hadn't ended well, given that he was now sitting with the Hufflepuff table (not that he was complaining; Cas was here anyway) and his dad sending him a Howler about it. 

Dean had a hard time making friends after that event. 

In his opinion, Sam was more of a Hufflepuff than he was, and really, he was worried about how mad his dad would be at getting two sons in Hufflepuff. Dean felt slightly ashamed because he knew that his dad wouldn't yell nearly as much at Sam as he would about Dean because somehow everything was Dean's fault. 

It didn't bother him, as long as Sammy was happy, because Dean was the fuck up of the two of them, no matter how much Cas, Benny, and Jo might have tried to convince him otherwise. 

Watching the first years march into the hall uncertainly, Dean felt a knot in his stomach, heavy as a rock, and Cas patted him on the back in reassurance. It would be alright, hopefully. He adjusted his tie and shifted in his seat. Winchester was near enough the end of the alphabet that he shouldn't have been anxious at that point, but there he was, on the verge of vomiting. 

Sam smiled at him and he waved back, unable to stop a snort at the pointed hat on Sam's head before he realized that he was wearing one, too. Stupid wizarding dress. If he had his way, he would have worn muggle clothing all the time. Jeans were much more comfortable than a long, billowy robe that got caught and bunched between his legs. But at least the robes covered his bowlegs, even if they were annoyingly tangled when he tried to walk. 

Sam wasn't even in the sights of the sorting hat and Dean was nervous for him. He knew firsthand just what nerve it was waiting in line for that. Although, four years ago, when it had been his turn, Dean was sure he was going to be a Gryffindor, but the hat had declared him a Hufflepuff, not without a certain amount of deliberation, though. He hadn't asked it to put him in Gryffindor, though, despite how much he wanted to be there. He'd been devastated, because who the hell liked Hufflepuffs? They were just the leftovers, and that was all Dean had ever felt like in his life. Like he was just the mistaken first try and Sam was what his parents had wanted all along. Like he was just an extra, a stand in in case things didn't work out well. 

It wasn't like he hated being in Hufflepuff. Rather, he'd found his place there, and he'd made his friends inside of the house. The only time that he hated it was when he was away from Hogwarts, at home with his father who tried to shame him for being who he was. Most of the time, he was able to move past that and be pretty happy and content with his life. He'd grown to accept that he was truly a Hufflepuff, no matter if his father wanted him to be in Gryffindor. Hufflepuff wasn't the house of leftovers he'd thought it was. If he'd tried to diss it now, he'd be dissing his best friends, and there wasn't any way that he could do that. He loved them too much. 

He'd always tried, though, to be just who his father had always wanted him to be. And it wasn't like he was dumb. Hell, Dean actually did pretty well in the classes that were interesting. Some of them were a bit too boring for his tastes. But casting spells and shit? Hell yeah, Dean Winchester was down for that. He hadn't thought he would enjoy school, not even wizarding school, but he was doing pretty well and he actually enjoyed his time here. 

Not to mention he'd made some pretty great friends while here, as well. 

All he'd been missing was his dork of a little brother. 

It took him a lot of nail-biting and stomach churning to make it through the rest of the kids getting sorted, but he'd finally made it. 

"Winchester, Samuel!" 

He watched as his little brother walked slowly through the crowd, making his way up to the hat, where his entire set of friends and how his peers saw him for the next seven years would be decided. It was a big moment, and no doubt Sammy was feeling the heat. Dean might have been feeling it a bit more than he was. He took in a big breath as he watched the hat land on Sam's face, holding it because he couldn't bear it. The Sorting Hat sat on his head for a while, as if deliberating, and he could see Sam's eyes closed. Eventually, with everyone watching expectantly, the hat took a deep breath and called it out.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Rang through the hall, and Dean's face broke out in a grin, happy to see his brother go where he belonged, where his dad wanted him. Sam gave him a grin that didn't see all there, and a few people later, the feast was beginning after a few words. Dean's stomach was still uneasy, but he was able, as always, to shove some food into his mouth, grinning at his friends. The fact that his brother was in Gryffindor made him feel better about being where he was. Later, he was going to have to congratulate his brother, but for now he'd have a good time with his friends. 

Later, they'd met up and hugged, Dean grinning at his brother. 

"What took you so long, Sammy?" He meant to get sorted, and Sam knew what he was talking about. 

"The hat was asking me questions."

"Yeah, like what?" It had been silent to him, working its way through his thoughts without a word. 

"It was asking me what I admired most." 

"And what'd you tell it?"

"About you."

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for babyonlockdown on tumblr, and it has not been posted here. Not much else to say. C: I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
